Chapter 4

I had no time for grief. I turned and ran madly toward the hospital.

The elevator wouldn't come down, so I rushed to the stairwell instead.

Just as I reached the third floor, a group claiming to be reporters suddenly swarmed out and surrounded me.

"Miss Walker, is it true that you became mentally unstable from unrequited love as a mistress and imagined Mr. Cross had died?"

"Your former classmates have come forward saying you're an orphan who survived by collecting trash since childhood. Is that accurate?"

"Knowing Mr. Cross was already married, you deliberately harassed and slandered him. What exactly are you trying to achieve? Can you give everyone a response?"

Camera flashes went off constantly, so bright I couldn't open my eyes.

Those harsh questioning voices made my ears ring, my head splitting with pain.

I was so anxious I broke out in sweat, desperately pushing through the people surrounding me, my voice tearful and pleading.

"Please let me through, okay? I have an emergency! My mother is critically ill and needs immediate surgery. I'm begging you!"

But they still blocked me, continuing to interrogate and photograph me, forcing me to give them the answers they wanted.

In the struggle, my phone slipped and fell to the ground, trampled beyond recognition.

I bent down to pick it up but was slapped hard across the face.

"A shameless homewrecker like you—you deserve to have a mother? Using your mother as an excuse to gain sympathy—absolutely disgusting!"

The woman who hit me had a cutting tone, her eyes full of contempt and disgust.

The slap left me dizzy and disoriented, my cheek burning with pain. Despair and rage swept through my entire body.

Just then, hospital security rushed up, shouting sternly.

"This is a hospital! If you don't leave now, we're calling the police!"

Taking advantage of the gap, I desperately rushed upstairs.

But the moment I burst into the hospital room, all the strength was instantly drained from my body.

On the bed, my adoptive mother lay quietly, her face as pale as thin paper, her lips completely bloodless.

The attending physician stood beside the bed, his face full of regret and sympathy. Seeing me enter, he sighed softly, his tone heavy.

"Miss Walker, I'm sorry. We did everything we could."

My pupils constricted. My vision went black, and I nearly collapsed.

A nurse beside me helped me up, explaining in a low voice.

"The old lady was fine an hour ago. A woman came to her room and said something to her. They argued, and the old lady had an attack."

"When you didn't come to sign the papers, we activated the emergency protocol, but the donor suddenly backed out."

Grief pressed down on me until I could barely breathe, yet I couldn't make a sound of crying.

I slowly broke free from the nurse's support and moved step by step to the bedside, holding my adoptive mother's cold hand.

The person who had given me warmth and strength during my most difficult times would never open her eyes again.

After carrying my adoptive mother to the crematorium for cremation, I simply buried her in a quiet cemetery.

After kneeling and bowing, I dragged my numb body to the cross-river bridge. Standing at the edge, I recorded a video set for delayed posting and uploaded it online.

Without a moment's hesitation, I leaped down.

Ethan was at the obstetrics department accompanying Vivian for a prenatal checkup. The two were discussing what to name the baby.

Just then, his assistant's phone call came through, an urgent voice on the other end.

"Mr. Cross, something terrible has happened! Miss Walker jumped into the river!"